


the storm he carried

by shortlikemarvin (FunTimesAtTheDisco)



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:01:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23070595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunTimesAtTheDisco/pseuds/shortlikemarvin
Summary: There was a storm inside of him. When it raged, it shut down his senses. He forgot where he was, who he was and who he was with. When it woke, he was in the middle of an unforgiving, furious storm. He was the storm.Sometimes, when the people in his life clouded too close to him, tension built up, until it released in a strike of lighting. It caused panic and fire. Every fire always ceased, but the burns stayed. He was forgiven, but no one forgot.
Relationships: Dr. Charlotte/Cordelia (Falsettos), Jason & Marvin (Falsettos), Marvin/Trina (Falsettos), Trina/Mendel Weisenbachfeld, Whizzer Brown/Marvin
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22





	1. the start

There was a storm inside of him. When it raged, it shut down his senses. He forgot where he was, who he was and who he was with. When it woke, he was in the middle of an unforgiving, furious storm. He was the storm. 

Sometimes, when the people in his life clouded too close to him, tension built up, until it released in a strike of lighting. It caused panic and fire. Every fire always ceased, but the burns stayed. He was forgiven, but no one forgot. 

After the storm raged, he was left more empty and with even more regrets than usual. They added on top of each other tirelessly. Toyed with him and his thoughts until he was a hateful, exhausted mess. Until a new storm started brewing. Nothing seemed to be able to calm him. Nothing made the clouds part. Sleep was usually his only escape and even then, nightmares haunted him. It seemed like he was always haunted. 

His wife tried to help him, but she made him uneasy and exhausted. He appreciated the effort, but the more she tried, the more he felt the judgment of his family and that did not help him calm down.

It was soon after he met her that he became intrigued by her. She was soft, gentle. They talked for hours, deep into the night of a Saturday. It was at a party where people got drunk to celebrate good or bad grades. Marvin got drunk for reasons he kept to himself. The only person who didn’t drink was her. She seemed out of place in the most remarkable way. He had to know her. So he went back with her to her place, asked questions, but mostly talked about his own life. He didn’t have many friends, so having her with him made it easier to get his mind straight, especially now that his tongue was looser. 

When the watch on Marvin’s wrist read four o’clock, he stood up, realization hitting him even in his drunk state. He was supposed to switch majors in the morning. His dad was coming to make sure of it. He couldn’t look like absolute garbage when that happened, couldn’t bare the backhanded comments that would cause. 

The girl had asked him for his address. In his state of panic he told her one that he definitely did not live at and left. He hoped he did not have to see her again. However intriguing she was, she was not what he was looking for. He had simply looked for a person to rant to. 

Three days after his father left, he had been drinking even more. He was able to stand, but he could not come far, his legs only carried him to his bed, to the kitchen or to the door, which were three fortunate options if his body needed anything. That’s when the knock came. One of the options proved less fortunate than he thought when he opened the door. She was there, a smile on her face and a blush on her cheeks. 

“You gave me the wrong address,” she said. She wasn’t angry. Far from it. She looked like it was the most normal thing anyone could have done to her. 

“I was drunk,” he explained, quite pitifully. 

“You still are, it seems.” 

He stepped aside. She came in. It should have been a warning sign for the both of them. It should have warned his wife of his lies, of his problems and his neurotic behavior. It should have warned Marvin that this was someone who would not be pushed away, no matter how hard he tried. 

They were young and both desperate for company, so the signs were invisible to them. Or they pretended that they were. They could see them, could see their red neon lights that pointed in two opposite directions. However, they ignored them and fell together in a messy, unfamiliar rhythm. 

That night was why they married. Why they had a son. Why he became tied down to a life he never wanted, let alone desired. To picket fences and chatting neighbors and tiring hours in an office that was too big to care for. 

That night is what started the storm that had been brewing since his childhood. It’s what made the clouds thicken and blocked out the sun. 

After Jason was born, his wife couldn’t keep her oath any longer and gave in to the relief of alcohol. It became their tradition to sit in silence after Jason went to sleep and finish a bottle together. Sometimes they talked, mostly they didn’t. 

When their son turned six, it was a night to talk, to Marvin’s silent annoyance. 

“He’s getting old,” she started after nurturing her second glass of wine. 

“He’s only six.” 

She sighed at that. She sighed so much. “I think you’re getting more and more distant, dear. I want you with me. Near me. Near Jason. Why won’t you let us help you?” 

“Jason can’t help me. He’s a child. So you mean you. Why won’t I let you help me,” he corrected quite roughly, looking her straight in the eyes. He set down his glass and crossed his legs beneath the table. 

“You’re not answering my question,” she muttered, looking away from his piercing gaze, letting him gain the dominance he always desired. 

“I don’t feel like answering. Not if you’re acting like I’m dying.” 

“I think you should see a therapist, Marvin,” she blurted out in a moment of confidence. “My mother and I discussed it and we both agreed that you’re in need of help. Professional help, since I can’t be of proper use.” 

Marvin furrowed his eyebrows. There, the storm started waking up, the tension was building. “Are you saying there is something wrong with me?” 

There was that sigh again. “No, Marv, I just think you could do with a little help. I’m worried about you, honey. Could you? For me?” Her pleading eyes and the alcohol in his system made him cave in, let to storm die down before it hit the shore. How could he say no to such gentle eyes? They always got to him, even if they belonged to someone he didn’t want.

He started going to the psychiatrist a friend from temple recommended. The man was short, insecure and nervous and seemed more interested in chit chat rather than helping Marvin. He went for his wife. 

The clouds only got thicker.


	2. breakfast

It was all so easy back then. All the things he wanted to do were possible. He could get whatever he wanted from whoever he pleased. The girls in school seemed obsessed with him, even though the guys disliked him a lot. He had a girlfriend back then. She stood by his side as he stumbled through his fits, protected him against his own hate. She tried many times to get him to touch her. He never could. Yet she stayed with him, until he blew it off. 

Looking back, she reminded him a lot of his wife. Patient, yet silently judging his inability to love her. He tried. God knows he tried. When trying didn’t work, he tried pretending. That went well enough for a few years, until his wife got sadder and Jason grew older. 

That’s what he told the psychiatrist. Mendel, his name was. Marvin didn’t know why, but it annoyed him that the man’s first name started with the same letter as his own. 

Mendel was everything Marvin despised in a man: open, scared and had pretty much nothing to live for. At least Marvin could keep his emotions in. At least Marvin had a family. At least Marvin had a life. 

Whether or not it was a life he wanted, was of a different concern. It was one of those concerns that never mattered, because no one, including him, had any use for it, so it was left ignored. Marvin was good at ignoring matters that would ruin him. 

He went once a week to this Mendel guy. Marvin refused to call him a man. His wife seemed happy with it. He pretended it worked. 

“I’m glad you’re less angry.” Jason had gone to bed. 

“I’m glad too,” he lied in response. 

“I wish it would help with your other problems…” His wife moved towards him and placed her long, feeble fingers on his shoulders. They were cold, so he shivered. She thought he did for another reason. 

“I don’t have other problems,” he said coldly as she started rubbing his neck too lightly to do anything to him. 

“I miss you.” 

She trailed her hand down. He downed his wine. They went to bed. Marvin played the game. He became someone else when he did. Someone who loved her, cared for her, the way he couldn’t. For a few beautiful, freeing moments, he believed he could be that guy. 

But when it was over and the lights turned off he could only see the thousand other, illuminating paths he could’ve gone. Freeing, loud, proud and unafraid. For now, those lights were unavailable to him, for the clouds were pure shadow and provided only vague silhouettes of his wants. 

He wondered how much longer the dark would last. What he could do to maybe, just maybe, let the sun break through. 

It was the morning after that gave him hope. He had had another nightmare and woke up. Someone had died, but he couldn’t see who. He wondered if it mattered. 

His wife was downstairs, making a breakfast he could smell already. He heard her humming. She always hummed when it appeared he cared again. 

He pushed himself out of bed and went into the shower, cleaning every bit that made him feel sick. When he was done with the cleaning, he faced towards the shower head, allowed the water to hit his face, relax his muscles, calm his thoughts. Showers worked miracles. They were warmer than his wife would ever be. The water, constantly falling on him, rhythmic and appealing, were rougher than she’d ever get. These showers were a reason to wake up. If Jason didn’t exist, they’d be his only one. 

He was finished only when he felt less sick and able to face the day. It took a long while, but he knew everyone would wait on him. They always did.   
He dried off with the one towel that was still soft and took a deep breath before putting on his clothes. They were definitive. When they were on, he couldn’t deny the day any longer. 

Breakfast usually consisted of eggs, black coffee and silence. He read the newspaper, she stared at the clock, Jason watched television. He started gaining interest in Marvin’s chess board, but Trina said he was too young to play. Maybe he was. Marvin wasn’t a parent enough to know such things. It wasn’t his job. He made money, she cared. That was how things worked, even if some people found it unfair. 

Marvin skimmed most articles, finding anything to do with sports or politics boring at best. He mostly read the art section of the paper and criticized the critics. Often, on his way to work, he’d stop by to buy the book they talked of, read it himself and then reread the review, making notes on what he agreed or didn’t agree on. He mostly created sentences he found more fitting as a review. He always thought it stupid when people started a criticism with an emotion or anything sentimental. He wanted facts, not someone else’s experience. Marvin wanted his own before trusting anyone else. Even then, he barely trusted someone else’s word. After all, he knew better. Having his own view of what happened, how can anyone else be right? 

This morning was much the same. The eggs were there, scrambled, on toast. Jason was there, sitting behind the television, the noise turned down. He was drinking whatever his wife had handed him before attending to Marvin. The staring at the clock was there. He often wondered what his wife was waiting for, but never asked. 

The only thing that changed was Marvin’s skimming. Right before the culture section of the paper, still in politics, there was this small square of an article. It was made to be hidden. When Marvin leaned closer, he understood why. 

It was an advert for a riot. A riot made for people whose name he feared. The word that reminded him of why he should hate words more than anything. Yet he still loved them nonetheless. 

That one word he disagreed with existing. It made the sky in his mind flood with shadows, made the wind pick up, the tension build, the lighting charge. A word so innocent, yet people ruined it. Strange; odd; slightly ill; spoil or ruin: the definitions of queer. 

He closed the paper and stood up. He went to work early that day. His wife didn’t even look up.


	3. the bar

A breath. He thought maybe a breath would make sense of the choice he was about to make. Like it would reveal why he had chosen to go here. But the breath was just cold air and oxygen that kept him alive for too long. 

He stood in an alley, two dark buildings loomed over him, leaving no place for the normality he usually felt in his life. Normal was something he could hold on to, however fake it was. 

Where he stood was no such thing as normal.

Quiet beats of music waved towards Marvin. Laughter of men smoking outside invited him to step closer. If one walked passed here, there would be nothing to see. It was too dark. Only if you walked in, studied the seemingly empty alley, could you see one red, neon arrow that pointed to the door. 

Marvin wondered how it was so hard to see that light in the dark, but the mystery of it made it all the more intriguing. 

He never went inside, refused to give in to the part of him that wanted to leave everything behind and pretend that he existed for the very first time when he opened that door. If he did that, nothing would ever be the same. He could never look his wife in the eyes and tell her he loved her again.

So he stood there in the shadows and watched men come in alone and leave with someone new on their arm. It was usually around a certain time that they got too impatient to get home and started kissing each other shamelessly in the alley, unafraid and too uncaring to hide at home. 

They stayed in the shadows all the same. 

Marvin could only stand watching for a while, leaving right when he felt his unspoken desires come to life. 

He came there once when Jason was five. Again when he was seven. Then for two years, he became a star pretender again, loving and touching just enough to trick himself into a freedom he didn’t want. 

When Jason turned nine, his wife threw their son a party. Six kids came and didn’t feel ashamed to say they only came for the food. Three were decent enough to bring Jason presents. 

It was that party, the honesty in those ruthless kids, the fake smile on his wife’s face that made him get in the car and drive to those two dark buildings that were the gateway to something new. Something better. Something true.

He fixed his tie and got out of the car. He intended to stay in the shadows, like he did two years ago. Watching, but not playing. There was something that made him keep moving. 

He stopped in front of the little red arrow. It lit up his face. Marvin’s eyes followed the way it pointed, right towards the door. 

His heart yearned for it. He longed for so much more. Everything he didn’t know, had yet to learn, was right there, behind a door he had never dared touch before. Marvin was never one to deny himself to learn. He prided himself on being too clever for that. So who was he to deny himself one minute? 

He touched the handle, the cold bit into his skin. He cracked the door open. Music filled his ears, the laughter his heart and the honest freedom made him dizzy. He closed the door behind him and found a place to sit and watch. Watching, not playing. 

The light of the bar was like the sun, piercing through the thick, rumbling clouds. For the first time in years, he felt he could honestly smile.


	4. what he had to offer

But eventually he became bored of not playing the game. Watching other people make moves, leaving him out cold, for he distanced himself, was tough for him. He needed to have control. He wanted to pull he strings. He wanted to play- and most importantly- win at a game he never played before. 

The radiant red arrow pointed to the door and he stepped inside. Light and pleasure was spread out in front of him, hot bodies moving along to deafening beats, a well oiled machine of shameless men. Marvin hated them, but wanted to see them more and more each day. He wanted to touch them and make them want him. To fulfill his needs when his wife couldn’t. 

He moved to the bar, dodging the men, not wanting to engage yet. Marvin needed a drink first. He wanted to see the world turning around him. He was the sun and everything else was what clouded him. 

He got the drink he desired and downed it. Here, out in the open, he was a piece of the game. A screw in the machine. He was no longer observing. But that was not good enough. He couldn’t be a part of something like this. He had to be more than a pawn or a screw. He had to man the machine- to be the mover of the pieces.

So he looked around. Through weeks of just watching, he had learned the rules. The pieces fell under the spell of the players, but they all followed the same rulebook. Marvin had to be the one to change the rules. He had to invent a different way of playing. 

There. A man, well built, his shirt exposing hairs and skin, with tight pants and perfect hair, was dancing with someone. Marvin stared and he stared, but the man did not look back. He was too caught up in a carefree world Marvin did not like, for he was not a part of it. 

He waited for what felt like an eternity and after a long time, he became fully entranced. Every move of the man’s body affected Marvin in a way he could not describe. He was gorgeous but seemed terrifying at the same time. And then the man grabbed the other guy and tugged him along to the bathroom. The enchantment broke when Marvin lost the man in the sea of others. 

The lights of the bar and all the sounds came back to him, shattering the illusion of this being a safe place. It reeked and no one seemed to have dignity. It was disgusting. He scrunched his nose and got up, the clouds came back and he was no longer the sun, just a man caught in the shadows of everything he could not be. 

“So you’re not gonna talk to me?” an accusing voice cut through the music, silenced it all and made Marvin turn around slowly. 

Marvin glanced at the man he had stared at all evening.

The taller man studied Marvin when he didn’t respond. “I guess you’re right not to. I’m clearly too hot for you. Still, I’d be willing to give someone as…” He paused and pretended to think. “…desperate like you a chance. The sex is usually better. Buy me a drink,” he finished and sat down at the barstool Marvin had just sat in. 

“I’m not desperate,” Marvin snapped, but pulled out a ten dollar bill and handed it to the man, unable to look away from him. 

The man hummed in amusement and glanced at the bill. “Is that all I’m worth you?” and ordered a drink. 

“For now, yes,” Marvin answered and sat down next to him. 

Marvin found out soon that this man, Whizzer, was worth way more than ten dollars. He had a worth Marvin had never seen in any other person. Whizzer was pure desire. Everything Marvin had ever wanted. And so he started playing, thinking he was the one to break the rules by making better ones, cheating in a way. He thought he was in control, that he was the one to make the calls. 

Marvin did not notice that whenever he was with Whizzer, there was no shadow. Only sun. He did not notice how weak he became for the light Whizzer had to offer. And once he had a taste for it, he wanted more.


	5. whizzer brown

Whizzer Brown was a storm. A storm with lighting that flashes through the sky, showing off it’s strength and destruction. With a wind that raged through whatever lie had been built up, every carefully chosen word and twists it to fuel his fake affection. He had a rain of insults, always at the ready whenever Marvin got too close for Whizzer’s liking. 

It was a storm that matched Marvin’s. Imperfect, unbalanced and unpredictable. They both wanted to win, to blow each other away. So they fought and trashed and canceled each other out, until the next spark became a flame and they would rage all over again. 

It was moments where they both died out, exhaustion hitting their bodies, that the rays of sunshine came through and calmed their anger. Those were the moment Marvin felt something for Whizzer he could not describe, even with his knowledge and his understanding of the world. It was moments when that same, calming sun touched Whizzer’s face and lit up his eyes that Marvin started doubting everything he had ever known. For if he could not understand a single emotion, how could he know anything? 

But when the sun rose higher, it left Whizzer cold and a snide fell off his lips and they would rage all over again. Marvin wondered why he kept going back. Maybe because there was a sun to start with. 

Whizzer did not like Marvin’s way of living. Marvin despised Whizzer’s. He did not understand how a man- however young- could enjoy going out every night. Maybe Whizzer did it just to spite Marvin. It wouldn’t surprise him, if that was the case. Whizzer usually did things just to spite him. 

Whizzer once kept him waiting outside of his apartment, knowing full well he was coming over. When Whizzer did arrive, he acted drunk and stupid, but the second Whizzer saw he had gone too far, he was suddenly more sober than he first pretended to be. That was enough proof for Marvin that this man was out there to hurt him and for nothing else. Somehow, no matter how pissed Marvin got, Whizzer kept going at his own pace and was almost exclusively late from then on. 

Marvin had never met anyone who did not listen to him. It was refreshing, yet terrifying. Marvin could not stop wanting Whizzer, but Whizzer sometimes acted as if Marvin was a burden to him. Marvin did not want Whizzer to cast him aside. He needed the younger man more than he had ever needed a good book, or nice food. Or a wife. 

Whizzer Brown was a storm. And more often than not, Marvin started wishing they could ruin his life together, instead of Marvin doing it on his own.


	6. out

“Marvin, where were you?” 

“Out, obviously.” 

“It’s two o’clock.” 

“Like I said, I was out.” 

“I waited for you.” 

“I didn’t say you had to. That was your own choice.” 

“You smell like cigarettes and alcohol.” 

“I was out with friends. I was.” 

“I didn’t say you were lying.”

“Your face said otherwise.” 

“I’m going to sleep.” 

“Wise.” 

And they both laid there, silent and tense, until one of them decided they preferred the dark and closed their eyes. The other was bound to stay awake and wait in the silence and hope someone would say something or do something to end their misery. 

“Whizzer, where were you?” 

“Out.” 

“You never called this late before.” 

“I already said where I was.” 

“No, you didn’t. ‘Out’ isn’t a location.” 

“Maybe it is. How would you know?” 

“I know most things. I do.” 

“I doubt that.” 

“I waited for you.” 

“Unwise. I never wait for you.” 

“That I know.” 

“I doubt that too.” 

“Can you call me earlier tomorrow? My wife-” 

“Yeah, your wife. Go to her.” 

“Call earlier, tomorrow?” 

“That’s not the sound of going.” 

“Whizzer, please.” 

“Night, Marvin.” 

And they both laid there, in separate houses, in separate lives that should not fit as well as they did. One hung up the phone and lit another cigarette whilst watching the undying lights of the city, while the other went upstairs with dreadful regret and he hoped that one day Whizzer could end his misery.


	7. buildings

Marvin had always hated New York. He hated how the buildings loomed over him, pretending to be better and more important than him. He hated how the people were so careless of who he was that they shoved passed him with no apologies. He deserved better than this city, yet he had lived here his entire life. He was glad that he lived in one of the quieter parts of the city, but they seemed more fake and unbearable than the people living in the center. 

He had never expected to fall in love with one of the buildings that scraped the sky. It was a cheap apartment complex that stood shyly between two taller, more dominant skyscrapers. The apartments were tacky and unclean. There was mold on the walls, the hall was uninviting. The light-bulbs flickered, unstable and violent as if to chase anyone unwanted away. No one in their right mind would enter this building with a safe feeling in their guts. 

Marvin found it the most appealing building in the world. He loved the outside. He loved how it reflected its surroundings. The buildings looking down on it were forced to stare right back at themselves, for the complex had mirrored glass. It was tall, but too small to have any lasting impact if something were to happen to it. The skyline wouldn’t change by it’s absence.   
The inside was even more interesting. He loved how it tried to scare away any visitors. It tried, but Marvin was never one to be scared away by simple interiors. He was going to talk to the landlord and make sure it was fixed. No building he liked should be so broken. 

When he went down the hall, he would be lucky if the elevator even worked. It was only on good days that he could take the easy way up. On days when the sun shined and most lights worked. 

If the elevator failed to rise him up, he took the stairs to his destination. That was on bad days, when he was most unwanted. Even if he was unwanted, he worked up a sweat to get there anyway. He could not be swayed from his path. 

When he reached the top floor, he had thought of a thousands things to tell, to share, to exchange for the time he would spend. He thought of the things he had failed to say or do last time. He had created a safe pattern and Marvin wasn’t one to break out of the safety. So he locked the possibilities away and settled for the usual knock. They were rapid and quick, impatience clear. He always made himself clear, showed his cards. And then he forced them to play the game to his will. That’s how he always won. They always let him. 

The door would open and Whizzer would stand there, tall as the skyscrapers, towering over Marvin. He would lean against the door frame with a calculating smirk that made Marvin speechless most of the time. It made him forget even what he had locked away and left him confused and far from safe. 

He would let him in, would broaden his horizon, take his mind and body to places he still had to discover. Then they would sit in their fading pleasure, the magic of seeing each other wore off and they stared and stared until someone felt too exposed, too scared and would degrade and mock. The clouds would gather around the sun and block out any pleasantries. They would be at each other’s throats again, a second round, a third, until they couldn’t stand each other anymore. 

Then Marvin broke away, excused himself with a life he never wanted and left. The elevator was broken, the lights would flicker and die, and Marvin would stand on the bottom on the place he loved most, with a ring on his finger and nasty memories, but he could at least still feel the warmth of sun on his skin, how high he felt seeing a blue sky. It was clouded again and thunder was rumbling in the distance, but at least he knew what it was like to be warm. 

“Leave her,” he would sometimes ask when the sky was clear. 

White clouds appeared when he did. 

“I can’t. You know I can’t.” 

And it would stay silent, and the sky became heavy and tension built. 

“You can. You just won’t.” 

“Fine. I won’t.” 

“You’re ruining lives.” 

“You’re the one inviting me here every two days.” 

“Only when I’m too exhausted to go out and find someone better.” 

The sun was blocked. Not one ray came through. The buildings loomed tall, watching them, judging them. Judging Marvin. He would stay quiet, unsure of where to move next. 

“Why do you do this to me?” he had once asked in return. 

“You won’t leave her.” 

“I can’t leave him.” 

“I’m not changing for you if you can’t do shit for me.” 

“I do tons of things!” Then came the thunder. 

“Buying me pretty things isn’t all I require, Marvin.” 

“Yet it seems to be all you want from me. That and something to get you off with.” 

“You’re hardly enough for me to get off. Have you seen yourself? You would think you’d dress better with all the time you spent in the closet.” 

And they would fight and kiss and the tension faded and the sun came through until Marvin was empty handed and outside again. The only thing he had with him was his wallet and his ring. 

One day, when he had enough courage and strength, he would return with only his wallet.


End file.
